


Asphalt Roads and Concrete Floors

by AnonymousArchive



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Concerned Mark, Depressed Jack, Depression, Hopeful Ending, Insomnia, M/M, Midnight, Moonlight, One Shot, Or not, Platonic Relationships, Roommates, Sad Jack, Septiplier - Freeform, Streetlights, Walking, still dont know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 21:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11366235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymousArchive/pseuds/AnonymousArchive
Summary: Jack just wanted to clear his head. Mark just wanted to be there for him.





	Asphalt Roads and Concrete Floors

**Author's Note:**

> Here's something sad for all you angst lovers such as I. Hope you like this.

"Ye don't really have to join me, ya know? I'm fine on my own," Jack said, hands stuffed in the pockets of his favorite blue hoodie, his footsteps echoing as sneakers met asphalt and concrete.  
  
"Don't worry, Seán. It's totally my pleasure. It isn't safe to be outside all alone at one in the morning, anyway," Mark replied, a genuine warm smile on his face as he walked next to the Irishman, choosing to call him by his real name to emphasize the sincerity of his statement.   
  
"Well, okay... I guess?" Jack simply says in return, averting his blue eyes from brown as he stared at the moonlit sidewalk and the two shadows that stained it.   
  
It stayed quiet as they walked, only the sound of distant cars honking and the leaves fluttering with the breeze filling the atmosphere. Mark felt the comfort in it, admiring how wonderful the city was at night with all the bright lights and distant sounds of life, although Jack was still pretty much on edge, head in a cloud way above the ground.   
  
"You okay?" Mark spoke soon, shortly after noticing his best friend's knit eyebrows and seemingly dejected expression.   
  
"Mhm, just a little shabby," the blue eyed man replied, and it took everything in Mark not to point out how badly he knew it was just a lie.   
  
Yes, he was concerned about his best friend's wellbeing but clearly, he wasn't even invited. Had he not caught his roommate grabbing his apartment key, he wouldn't even be with him right now. He didn't know if he had the right to pester the man, so he didn't.   
  
And they returned to silence.   
  
—•—   
  
Mark felt a little confused. He couldn't seem to read Jack at this moment anymore. He didn't look distressed like he did moments ago. This time, he looked distant, and that was way more scary.   
  
He knew something was up when the Irishman tried to sneak away. He wouldn't want fresh air if he wasn't being choked out of breath. Then again, _maybe_ he just enjoys walks in the dark? _Maybe_ he likes staying up at one to wander the streets? It _was_ possible, but there were just too many red flags, clearly showing that wasn’t the case at all. There was definitely something going on inside that Irish mind, and Mark just couldn't help the questions of worry that came flooding his head.

Oddly enough, he felt as if his roomie _always_ sneaked out this early in the morning, and this was just the first time he'd caught him in the act. It seemed as though despite the fact that he was too lost in his train of thought, he _knew_ where he was going. As if his footprints were engraved onto the sidewalk from the numerous times he'd passed here, alone.   
  
_Alone_ .   
  
Maybe that was it.   
  
Mark looked at Jack once again, hoping to see a change in his faraway look. But when there was none, it was his turn to set his gaze onto the shadows that lurked on the floor they walked on. It was his turn to be deep in thought.   
  
—•—   
  
Maybe Jack forgot Mark was even there. Maybe Jack was too into his head. He didn't know and never will know why, but he was still shaken and shocked to hear the deep voice of his best friend.   
  
"Where are we, Seán?"   
  
His head snapped to look at the red haired man, only to be surprised once again. His face wore an expression of exhaustion, and Jack couldn't help feel quite guilty for that.   
  
_You really should have forced him to stay and leave you be._   
  
"Uh, no where," Jack said quietly, his voice hoarse without reason. Was this his exhaustion seeping in too? Did he mirror the expression on Mark's face, or was his worse? He'll never truly know, now would he?   
  
"What?" the brown eyed man asked once more, the gears in his head probably not piecing the puzzle quite as quick as Jack would have hoped. But the Irishman couldn't complain, it's not like Mark knew the things that went in his head every time he went out at one in the morning.   
  
"We're no where. In particular, at least."   
  
"Oh."   
  
"Yep."   
  
And once again, silence.   
  
—•—   
  
Still unable to read Jack, Mark continued to form conclusions as they strolled. Clearly, it wasn't loneliness that bothered Jack. If it was, then that wasn't the bigger picture, but simply a side effect of the main cause.   
  
If anything, Jack _wasn't_ alone. He had him, Bob, Wade, Felix, and a whole lot more people in his life. He had four wonderful siblings and parents who loved him dearly. He smiled often around them, around his friends and family. Happiness radiated from his voice and personality when the sun shone and he wasn't here, in the streets wandering aimlessly. Mark could tell — loneliness wasn't the primary problem.   
  
If anything, Jack probably feels _lost_ .   
  
That was it. It had to be.   
  
Besides, why would they be heading ' _no where_ ' if Jack didn't feel like his life wasn't going in any direction? It was evident that he felt like wherever he went wouldn't matter to be mentioned in particular. That location and direction weren’t an important detail in his journey.   
  
Then again, Mark might be over analyzing the situation.   
  
Still, he was concerned for his roommate. For his best friend. For the blue eyed, green haired Irishman that calls himself Jack. For the obnoxiously loud, warm hearted, kind man named Seán McLoughlin.   
  
And it hurt him that he couldn't do anything at all to help him. He couldn't do a single thing but walk in the silence, past asphalt roads and concrete floors.   
  
—•—   
  
The silence wasn't as comforting as it should be.   
  
Jack had now taken notice of the figure that stalks slowly next to him on his endless, mindless journey, and he couldn't quite help feel that it was a whole lot better to take these walks alone.   
  
_Don't think like that. Mark's only being friendly enough to drag himself out of the comfort of his bedroom to come walk with you_ , Jack scolds himself in his head, eyes still glued onto his feet, hands still in his pockets.   
  
He really shouldn't think so negatively about another being's presence. Besides, Mark wasn't there to invade his personal space. _He was only being the great guy he is. He only wants to be here for you._ _  
_   
And immediately after that thought dissipates, Jack needs to remind himself that the other human being was only even here because it was too dark and early in the morning.   
  
He didn't know a single thing about Jack's racing thoughts. He didn't know about his insomnia, either. He didn't know anything about Jack's issues. He can't be there for him. He clearly wasn't there for him now.   
  
It may have stinged a little, thinking that he was alone when it came to dealing with the skeletons inside his closet. But really, was that what he was so sad about every one in the morning?   
  
For the first time in their walk, Jack purposefully lets his eyes glide over to Mark without being prompted by a question or a statement. For the first time does he notice his puzzled look, eyes trained onto the floor just like his own blue ones were, and once more he can't help feel guilty for putting that look onto his best friend's face.   
  
_It really isn't your fault, Seán. He can't read your mind, idiot._   
  
Still, Jack finds it hard to clear his head as he goes back to staring at his feet. He really _really_ wished Mark stayed behind.   
  
—•—   
  
"It's two now, you know? Maybe ye should go on ahead and rest before school tomorrow," Jack breaks the quiet, and Mark is shocked he even started a conversation at all.   
  
Even worse, Jack sounds a whole lot _normal_ . As if he wasn't distant, distressed, or depressed.   
  
It took time for Mark to choose his words carefully, and eventually he replied, "I'm not going home until you do."   
  
"The professors will be pissed at ye, Mark—"   
  
"I don't care."   
  
"But—"   
  
" _No_ , Seán. I won't abandon you at 2- _fucking_ -am."   
  
He may have sounded a little bit rough. And a tad lot mad.   
  
It was enough to shut Jack up, though.   
  
"O-Okay. But I don't head back 'til five."   
  
"What?" Mark stops in his tracks, suddenly filled with a whole lot more concern for his friend, "We wake up at seven. How will you sleep?"   
  
Jack simply shrugged in reply as he continued walking forward, suddenly nonchalant. This made Mark grow determined to figure out what the fuck was going on.   
  
"Stop."   
  
Jack walks on, unfazed.   
  
"Jack!"   
  
Still walking, the sound of footsteps his only reply.   
  
"Seán, please."   
  
Nothing.   
  
"Fucking stop and listen to me, Seán William McLoughlin!"   
  
He finally stopped, but didn't turn around to face his roommate. Mark could understand why, and even in the darkness, he could still notice Jack's slight quiver.   
  
"What... What the hell is going on with you?"   
  
—•—   
  
Jack didn't know why, but the question sent daggers to his barely beating cold heart. It was stupid, he was stupid, Mark was stupid, life was stupid.   
  
He really didn't want to let Mark know how vulnerable he was right now, but if he even took one step forward in an attempt to pretend that he hadn't heard his best friend, he knew the said friend would eventually yank him back with force just to get him talking.   
  
He just wanted to clear his head. He just wanted to be okay again.   
  
He wanted the thoughts gone and away like they normally were when he had these walks. These were like the alcohol or the pills that distracted him, keeping him somehow sane in the daylight. But with Mark around, it seems as if his condition just grew a lot worse.   
  
And he hated himself for blaming his concerned friend for today's pain.   
  
"Nothing," he replied in a mutter.   
  
"What?" Mark asks softly, taking small strides towards him.   
  
"Nothing is going on with me, okay?"   
  
He couldn't help sound vicious. He couldn't help notice Mark's suddenly hurt expression. He couldn't help feel guilty for what seems like the third time this morning.   
  
"I-I just wanna clear my head. Nothing to worry about, hmm?" he added, speaking in a much nicer, warmer, kinder voice. He tried giving Mark a genuine smile, but there was none of those left, and all he put on his face was what seems like an attempt at false happiness.   
  
Mark soon frowned, and Jack knew there was no getting out.   
  
—•—   
  
"Seriously, Jack. You can trust me. I'm just... really concerned. I'm not trying to invade your circle of personal space or anything. I just really want to help you and all," Mark said after a small sigh, knowing full well how true those words were as he sorta flailed around in nervousness, changing his frown into an expression that showed his true worry for his roomie in the blue hoodie.   
  
"It's just... I don't know."   
  
"You don't know?"   
  
"I don't know! I don't know why I'm like this, Mark. That's the problem. I try to know why I'm so... sad and miserable every night, but it's as if there's no reason to it at all. I just feel lost, and lonely, and scared, and nothing makes fuckin' sense anymore!"   
  
Mark looked at his friend, suddenly aware of how serious those feelings were as he sees those bloodshot blue eyes grow wide while he explains very carefully what storm was brewing in his mind.   
  
He was partly correct with his assumptions after all. Being alone _was_ a side effect, but so was being lost. All because of a cause the Irishman couldn't determine himself?   
  
"These walks are supposed to keep me sane tomorrow. Enough to survive interactions. Enough to be genuinely content and pleased with this life and everything else that comes with it. Enough to be truly happy."   
  
He hadn't realized it. He never saw through those bright blue eyes before. But now, as he stared into them, there were a hundred new emotions barely evident unless you look hard enough. There it was — all Jack's pain, suffering, and sadness.   
  
And Mark couldn't stop his heart from aching and drooping.   
  
"I-I'm sorry, if I ruined your walk today or anything. I didn't know. I knew nothing."   
  
"It's okay, Mark. None of this is yer fault. It's all mine and this stupid brain's," he knocks his head playfully with a laugh, as if he was fine. As if he wasn't dealing with so many emotions.   
  
Mark had to give it to Jack. He was pretty good at acting _okay_ .   
  
"It isn't your fault either, Seán. None of it is anyone's fault."   
  
"Eh, well. Sure, I guess. Believe what ye want."   
  
Again, Mark can't help the pain radiating in him as he hears the hopelessness in Jack's tone.   
  
"No, seriously! This... isn't your fault! It's just... probably depression. Probably something else. I don't know, but I'll have to take you to a psychiatrist soon."   
  
"Mark—"   
  
"No, you can't stop me. This is _serious_ . It's not something I can just ignore now, seeing as you wake up every 1 am just to stroll around mindlessly."   
  
"Actually, I don't wake up fer these walks..." Jack suddenly intervenes and disrupts Mark's speech, rubbing the back of his neck in what seems like a guilty fashion.   
  
"Wait," the red haired man says, piecing thoughts together, "you don't sleep?"   
  
"No."   
  
"What the hell, Seán. Why not? You need to rest! You can't just stay up every night," the American suddenly chastised, very aware of his friend's bad habits that desperately needed to be fixed.   
  
"Sleep is for the weak," Jack just joked. Mark wasn't laughing, though.   
  
"Seán, I'm serious."   
  
"Okay, okay! It's insomnia, alright? I have insomnia," Jack just huffs in reply, waving a hand in an attempt to ignore the topic altogether.   
  
"Seriously? How are you so energetic every damn day?"   
  
"Coffee, maybe. I don't know," the man shrugs at his best friend, once again acting all nonchalant, as if this wasn't a serious problem he needed to fix.   
  
"Why don't you look tired, then?"   
  
"I can get naps every once in a while, ye know. Sometimes in between classes, most of the time during classes themselves. Jaysus, how I wouldn't survive college without yer notes at all."   
  
Mark simply blinked at Jack.   
  
The Irishman continued speaking, though, "But yeah, I get naps. The longest I have ever slept is probably thirty minutes. Regularly, I get about five to ten. So don't ye even worry about me not being able to sleep—"   
  
"Don't dismiss this, Seán. You can't dismiss this."   
  
It was Jack's turn to blink.   
  
"I should probably get you some sleeping pills if you have problems like that. I'll find a doctor who can conduct tests and we'll eventually know why the hell you aren't able to sleep. I think it has to deal with your seemingly depressing thoughts, so psychiatry would be the first option."   
  
Still no response from Jack.   
  
"Seán," Mark coaxed, trying so hard to make his roommate respond, at least a sign that he wanted to cooperate, "Please. You really can't ignore these things. You should have told me in the first place, since we're supposed to look out for each other as roommates and best friends."   
  
"Okay."   
  
"I told you, you can't just igno— wait, what?" the American was shocked. Had Jack just easily let Mark be without a fight?   
  
"I said okay, Mark."   
  
There was that smile again.   
  
If only it could be real, pure happiness that triggered it. Not just an empty facade to keep himself guarded.   
  
And Mark knew that from that very moment, he had made it his goal to see his friend smile genuinely and honestly once again.   
  
—•—   
  
"Also, thank you," Jack added shortly as soon as the pause of silence was too long to bear. Mark wore a surprised expression as soon as the Irishman's words had been heard.   
  
"F-For what?"   
  
"For yer good heart. I'm sure ye didn't even wanna come along tonight, but ya did anyway," Jack mutters, followed shortly again with his attempt at a truthful grin.   
  
"Jack, I said it was my pleasure," Mark smiles, finally choosing to use the nickname his best friend preferred.   
  
"Stop humbling yerself too much, ya doof. M'really grateful for yer company tonight. And for yer concern."   
  
"You deserve the best, and I'm only here to help you get it."   
  
"I told ye to stop being so modest."   
  
Mark simply laughed.   
  
"Now, maybe we should go home," Jack finally offered, eyes off the asphalt and concrete.

"Yeah, we should."  
  
And they walked, their gaze off the ground, the silence finally comfortable, all the negative tension fleeting.   
  
Jack just wanted to clear his head. Instead, he had finally gotten his help, one he desperately needed, all thanks to Mark, who just wanted to be there for him, his best friend. 


End file.
